Wednesday, December 31, 2014

The View Under Water



Sophie had a big seizure while I read to her this morning, and I couldn't summon up the energy to care in the way we want to care. Here we go. Sometimes when Sophie has a big seizure, I go nearly numb, my mind blank. I go through the motions, but I'm not really there. On mornings like this one, I imagine my old brain and body begins its tiresome cortisol rush -- start pumping the heart! put the stone in her throat! push water out the eyes! slow down the lungs! let the blood flow! -- but sees the body is calm, even bored. She's done this before! It's one of those times!  There's no fight nor flight. The orders are withdrawn. I hold Sophie, tell her quiet things, tell her nothing at all.

A host is someone who welcomes a stranger or a friend, takes charge of the stranger and the friend, takes care of her. A host, though, is also an animal or organism on which a parasite resides. I feel like a host sometimes, the second kind. I lay next to Sophie when she was done and brushed my hand over her forehead, closed my own eyes and then opened them, looked up with her, as her. A jellyfish hung and swayed in the air, a mermaid looked down, the air rippled as if it were water and could be broken through, maybe, toward light.

11 comments:

  1. While I don't understand, I get close reading your words. And I do understand the dissociation. I do it too. PTSD in all its forms. Love to you and your mermaid.

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  2. I am so sorry Elizabeth. I am more aware then ever what it must be like to take care of a child with epilepsy and my heart goes out to you. I thank you for opening my eyes but I feel sorrow and exhaustion at what it must take out of you. I wish 2015 is seizure free for Sophie. I wish 2015 brings you your wishes come true. Sweet Jo

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  3. I'm sure after you've been through it so many times, a certain numbness is bound to take hold. I'm sorry that happened. I hope the Charlotte's Web continues to work effectively and episodes like this one are very few and very, very far between.

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  4. What Steve said. Also, if you are the second kind of host, you are also simultaneously the first kind as well. Such a surge of energy on the planet last night. Sophie must be so sensitive to it all. It may help her when your own energy simmers rather than spikes to meet a seizure. At the very least it may help you. Sending love, dear Eluzabeth. So much love.

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  5. This is one of the most beautiful pieces of writing I read in 2014.

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  6. No words, really. Just, I'm here. Reading this. A witness, as it were. Sending love.

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  7. Leslie said well what I would say. Just that I'm hear listening. Hearing.

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  8. I understand, albeit in a smaller, different way. My father is in a nursing home because of a massive stroke almost eight years ago. He has COPD and develops pneumonia at the drop of a hat. I still worry when he starts with an infection, but it's nothing compared to the adrenaline-charged terror that used to come over me. I feel guilty that I am not as upset as I used to be. But I don't even really feel as guilty as I wish I could. I've been calling it burnout. I'm sure if I were you I would be burned out.

    Your daughter is beautiful.

    Came here via Ms Moon's blog.

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  9. You were the ocean beneath the waves.

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